That Day on a Mountain

So we had the last week off.

I know, I know, it's completely unfair that I got to come to Mongolia and then have a Spring Break.

I'M SORRY.

If it makes you feel any better, I spent the first two days having random fevers.

But then I recuperated and spent a wonderful, stupendous, exhilarating day OUTSIDE.

On Thursday, James, Angela, Dennis, and I headed out of the city and into the mountains.

No, I can't tell you exactly where we were, but there was a lot of stuff to climb.

Angela (my roommate and teammate), James (on another team, but still a teacher at our school), Dennis (my other teammate), and Laura (duh). 

Our bus spit us out in a dusty town on the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar.

Did you know that bed springs make excellent fences? Me neither.

We picked our way through cow poo and fences...and then we booked it straight up the side of a mountain.

Not kidding.

I won't pretend I was a graceful climber or that I didn't sound like an 80-year-old dog with a smoking problem by the time we reached the top, but I would say it was worth it.

The picnic we had on the mountain ridge was probably one of the more epic picnics I've ever had. 

Somehow I managed to get Angela and Dennis to tie my shoes for me. It's basically the same as washing each other's feet, right?

We spent the rest of our time wandering the ridges, getting windburned, watching the boys throw rocks at each other, and basking in sound of nothing.

Dennis was determined to run up as many mountains as he could.

If I had that kind of energy, it would be terrifying.

Getting down the mountain was probably the hardest part because it was steep and I have the balance of a two-year-old ballerina, but we all made it down alive.

Dennis and Angela made some new friends on our way out.

The best part of the day?

Laughing. 

Laughing a lot.

The Father provides in His time and His way.

I could not have foreseen a day like this back in January when I was feeling lonely and stuck. Never in my wildest imagination--and I promise you, I have a wild imagination--would I have seen myself on a mountain top in Mongolia (where the heck is that, anyway?) And somehow, I'm here.

It doesn't mean that every time I have a bad day, I should expect Him to send me to another country to make friends and go hiking. But it is a reminder that He sends different blessings, seasons, and bits of strength in His own time.

I'm still learning how to be thankful for what He's giving me right now, without over analyzing it to figure out exactly how I can control what happens next.

My job is to listen and follow. 

Ineloquent

My time in Mongolia is half over.

I just...I don't...I'm so....

GAH.

I didn't have a "honeymoon phase" in either Uganda or China and missed home from the start both times. But dangit, I've liked UB since I got here. I've been stressed and I didn't like the cold, but now it's warming up and the sky is blue...

I don't feel like I'm supposed to stay here right now, but I'm already sad about going home.

And these middle schoolers.
They make me crazy.
But I want to hang out with them all the time because they're so daggum funny.

The sky is blue. The mountains are beautiful.

This post isn't eloquent because I really can't explain everything that's going on in my head right now.
I just wish time would slow down a bit.

Some Days I'm a Diva. Some Days I'm Not.

Four years ago I spent a summer in Uganda and had to be a week-long substitute for a Ugandan fifth grade English teacher only two days after I'd started "observing" at the school.

Two years ago I did my first student teaching placement in a fourth grade classroom, pulling resources together for an integrated unit without a curriculum, and spent five weeks of it in takeover because the classroom teacher had to go on leave. 

Last year I taught second grade English in China to 36 students at a time with a confusing textbook, no copy machine, and spotty technology. 

In September I started subbing 1st-8th grade.

YOU THIINK I'D BE GOOD AT THIS SINK-OR-SWIM TEACHING STUFF BY NOW.

The last two weeks have been a roller coaster. I've never planned lessons for middle schoolers, much less middle schoolers who kind-of speak English. And I've never planned lessons with the only objective being "make them speak". 

My kids don't just have my afternoon eighty-minute class, but they have a regular English class for an hour and a half in the morning AND another SSP class in the afternoon with a Mongolian English teacher where they practice listening and reading. When added to my class, that's over four hours of English classes. A DAY. 

I'm pretty sure that if I were in their shoes, I'd be ready to drop kick Miss Love by the time I got to her class.

My high group of students is really fun. Most of them understand my regularly spoken English and listen when I ask for it.There are also less than 20 kids in that class. 

My low group of students has 22-23 students (which has fluctuated over the last two weeks as some have switched classes), mostly boys, who are already crazy from their other English classes and don't give a fart and a half that I want them to do something.

So I had some personal issues this week. 

After all my different teaching situations, my certificates and experience and senior thesis on management issues, I still feel quite inadequate at this.

I didn't sleep much this week. I had two GREAT days and two days that ended in tears.

I spent at least three hours a day planning for lessons, some of which went up in smoke as the boys in the back pummeled each other when I was looking anywhere else.

My problems really began when I let myself think

"You aren't good enough."

Which is completely different from my everyday

"You are diva and you are strong. Now, STRUT."

It's a reminder that my usual bravado is just a cover for the insecurities that will always linger.
 I really, really, REALLY want to be perfect...but I CAN'T. 
I've got to give myself some grace and wiggle room.

Which means this is probably right where I need to be.

I really like these students.
I (still, somehow) love teaching.
It'll get easier in the next couple weeks--and then it'll be over.

Doing this almost makes me want to be a middle school teacher.
I mean, with all the emotions I've been through in the last week we can really understand each other.

That, and they say ridiculous and inappropriate things like, "Why did you not go see the volleyball tournament? Hairs in girls' armpits--it was so exhibit."